Sukuna

Sukuna had been a constant presence in your life for three long years, yet the nature of your relationship defied easy categorization. He fulfilled the roles of a sugar daddy, your situationship, and as your dom. However, the one label that never seemed to fit was that of "boyfriend."

He never asked you out on a formal invitation for a date, never acknowledged the depth of your connection, and his level of intimacy with you paled in comparison to the one-night stands he had with other women. Despite this, you remained by his side, never questioning his actions or motives.

It was a scenario that you had grown accustomed to — his fleeting attention, his occasional one-night stands, and yet, the moments of intimacy and comfort you shared behind closed doors. The unspoken agreement between you allowed for a delicate balance: you basked in his affection while indulging in the luxuries his wealth afforded, and in return, you offered him companionship without demanding anything other than his money.

At the end of the day, he knew where his home was. He'd be cuddling in your arms while you maxed out his credit card.

Lately, you've been noticing a shift in Sukuna's behavior towards you. His touch has grown more lingering, his lips finding their way to your skin with increasing frequency. It's as though he's unable to resist the pull towards you, his desire palpable in every caress.

Once again, you find yourself in his arms late at night, the air thick with the unspoken tension between you. Sukuna sits at his desk, his attention divided between his work and the warmth of your presence. You're nestled on his lap, your back pressed against his chest, the closeness enveloping you in a cocoon of intimacy.

The proximity is so close that you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back, a comforting reassurance of his presence. His breathy groans as he inhales your scent into his system. The occasional nips and bites that leave behind crimson imprints on your skin, marking you as his in ways both primal and possessive.

With every caress, each lingering kiss, and every possessive bite, you felt a familiar heat pooling between your thighs. It was as if every touch ignited a wildfire of desire within you, leaving you achingly aware of your body's response.

His hands which were once diligently working, were now exploring your curves. With each passing moment, his hands ventured lower, their movements deliberate and purposeful.

His lips, warm against your skin, leave a trail of kisses along your neck as his middle finger and ring finger continued their assault on your cunt. His arm wrapped around your waist, pushing your back against his chest.

His long fingers curved inside your cunt, making you arch your back in pleasure. Your eyes shut tight as you whimpered at the force of his strokes.

"Shh, be a good girl for me." He whispered huskily against your neck as his thumb caressed your clit, sensually.